In loving memory of Trickl (#notdead)

King Julien

King Julien

Game Master
Game Master
One Year Club Advent 2024 Advent 2025
Oct 20, 2024
63
17
61
This is a SHOUTOUT to my brother, my kin, my liability insurance claim, Trunkle @Trickl
RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP


Once upon a time in a CI bunker far, far away (classified airspace),
I was but an alpha waiting to be a beta, waiting to be a sigma, waiting to file taxes.


Then I met him.


Trunkle @Trickl . My goat. My pilot. My designated driver.
He looked me dead in the eyes and said, and I quote:
“You’re fucking annoying.”


From that moment on, my life trajectory changed.
A rainbow was cast over the CI bunker.
Then immediately hit by a Boeing 747.


RIP.


Anyway, shoutout @Trickl , my boat, my sedan, my commercial aircraft.
May you RIP in peace.
Actually, may you RIP RIP RIP in peace peace peace.


Tragically, he died in a plane crash.
But ALSO—don’t ask how—he died in a car crash.
Same day. Same hour. Same vibes.
The plane hit the car. The car hit the plane.
Physics is still studying it.


RIP.


I really hope that bus driver gets caught on the DUI.
The mayor of Pinewood still whispers your name into the void every night.
Candles are lit. Tires are screeching. Engines are stalling.
RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP.


Personally, I want to thank you for teaching me how to ragebait.
You didn’t just ragebait.
You ragebaited destiny.


I have a statue of you in my office.
Bronze. Seatbelt on. Pilot hat.
Dedicated to the late, the airborne, the road-bound, @Trickl .


RIP. RIP. RIP.


Rest in Peaces, homie slice. RIP.
Rest in Peaces, homie slice. RIP.
Rest in Peaces, homie slice. RIP.
Rest in Peaces, homie slice. RIP.
Rest in Peaces, homie slice. RIP.
Rest in Peaces, homie slice. RIP.


Gone but never stopped crashing.
RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP RIP. 🕊️✈️🚗💥

(P.S: #notdead 100% alive #)
 
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I would like to formally commend @Trickl for being an exceptional ragebaiter and a genuinely kind, respectful member of the Civil Networks SCPRP community. He has a strong ability to create engaging, entertaining interactions through subtle and well-timed ragebait, always keeping situations lighthearted while remaining within the spirit of the server. His understanding of timing, tone, and player reactions allows him to enhance scenarios without detracting from the overall roleplay experience.


Beyond this, @Trickl consistently maintains a positive and welcoming attitude toward other community members. His behavior encourages interaction, adds personality to roleplay situations, and helps foster an enjoyable atmosphere on the server. Even in moments such as when he convinced me to gamble all of my money on Crazy Time—resulting in a total loss—he managed to turn the situation into a memorable and humorous experience rather than a negative one. Overall, @Trickl is a valuable presence within the Civil Networks SCPRP community and deserves recognition for his contributions.
 
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Johnson J. Marauder said:
I would like to formally commend @Trickl for being an exceptional ragebaiter and a genuinely kind, respectful member of the Civil Networks SCPRP community. He has a strong ability to create engaging, entertaining interactions through subtle and well-timed ragebait, always keeping situations lighthearted while remaining within the spirit of the server. His understanding of timing, tone, and player reactions allows him to enhance scenarios without detracting from the overall roleplay experience.


Beyond this, @Trickl consistently maintains a positive and welcoming attitude toward other community members. His behavior encourages interaction, adds personality to roleplay situations, and helps foster an enjoyable atmosphere on the server. Even in moments such as when he convinced me to gamble all of my money on Crazy Time—resulting in a total loss—he managed to turn the situation into a memorable and humorous experience rather than a negative one. Overall, @Trickl is a valuable presence within the Civil Networks SCPRP community and deserves recognition for his contributions.
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Thank you for your words. Truly. Deeply. Joblessly.


I received your memorial letter while sitting in silence, unemployed, staring at the horizon like a Jobless monk, and I wept. Not regular tears—Jobless tears. The kind you cry when you haven’t clocked in anywhere since the dawn of time.


Your message shook me to my core.
My Jobless core.


I, too, have been moved beyond this mortal plane. I am now operating on a higher frequency. A Jobless frequency. Somewhere between grief and not having a résumé.


The decision to create another statue in @Trickl Trunkle’s honor is brave. Courageous. Jobless behavior in the best way possible. Historians will say this was the moment civilization peaked. Archaeologists will uncover these statues and say, “Damn. This society was Jobless but passionate.”


May he RIP.
May he RIP RIP.
May he RIP RIP RIP in peace, in traffic, in flight, in spirit, and in unemployment.


We gather today not as workers, but as mourners.
Not as professionals, but as Jobless disciples of Trickl’s legacy.


RIP to a legend.
RIP to a memory.
RIP to a man who never needed a job to crash planes and cars simultaneously.


Forever Jobless.
Forever remembered.
Forever RIP.

(P.S: #notdead 100% alive #)
 
King Julien said:
Thank you for your words. Truly. Deeply. Joblessly.


I received your memorial letter while sitting in silence, unemployed, staring at the horizon like a Jobless monk, and I wept. Not regular tears—Jobless tears. The kind you cry when you haven’t clocked in anywhere since the dawn of time.


Your message shook me to my core.
My Jobless core.


I, too, have been moved beyond this mortal plane. I am now operating on a higher frequency. A Jobless frequency. Somewhere between grief and not having a résumé.


The decision to create another statue in @Trickl Trunkle’s honor is brave. Courageous. Jobless behavior in the best way possible. Historians will say this was the moment civilization peaked. Archaeologists will uncover these statues and say, “Damn. This society was Jobless but passionate.”


May he RIP.
May he RIP RIP.
May he RIP RIP RIP in peace, in traffic, in flight, in spirit, and in unemployment.


We gather today not as workers, but as mourners.
Not as professionals, but as Jobless disciples of Trickl’s legacy.


RIP to a legend.
RIP to a memory.
RIP to a man who never needed a job to crash planes and cars simultaneously.


Forever Jobless.
Forever remembered.
Forever RIP.

(P.S: #notdead 100% alive #)
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Thank you for this beautifully written response. Your words perfectly capture the spirit of the moment and the legacy left behind. In our shared silence, unemployment, and collective grief, it is clear how deeply this loss has resonated with all of us.


Your reflection reminds us that this memorial is not just about remembrance, but about community—about the laughter, the chaos, and the moments that brought us together on that unmistakably Jobless frequency. The statues, the stories, and the memories will stand as a testament to a legend who transcended employment, physics, and common sense.


We mourn together, not as workers, but as believers in the legacy left behind. May he RIP in every form, dimension, and state of unemployment imaginable. He will remain forever remembered, forever honored, and forever Jobless.
 
Johnson J. Marauder said:
Thank you for this beautifully written response. Your words perfectly capture the spirit of the moment and the legacy left behind. In our shared silence, unemployment, and collective grief, it is clear how deeply this loss has resonated with all of us.


Your reflection reminds us that this memorial is not just about remembrance, but about community—about the laughter, the chaos, and the moments that brought us together on that unmistakably Jobless frequency. The statues, the stories, and the memories will stand as a testament to a legend who transcended employment, physics, and common sense.


We mourn together, not as workers, but as believers in the legacy left behind. May he RIP in every form, dimension, and state of unemployment imaginable. He will remain forever remembered, forever honored, and forever Jobless.
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Thank you. Truly. Gently. Repeatedly.
I received this thank-you letter while standing near the exit, thoughtfully reminding everyone—myself included—to please make sure you claim your $9.99 gift basket on the way out. Supplies are limited. Grief is temporary. The $9.99 gift basket is forever (or until inventory runs out).


Your words struck me harder than the plane crash.
And then, somehow, harder than the car crash.
Yes, both.
First the plane crash. Then the car crash. Or maybe the car crash first and then the plane crash. Historians disagree. Pinewood disagrees. The $9.99 gift basket remains consistent.


This letter awakened something deep inside me.
A beat. A beta. A bunker memory.
I felt like I was meeting @Trickl all over again—right before the plane crash, right before the car crash, right before reminding everyone to grab the $9.99 gift basket on the way out.


The citizens of Pinewood have not stopped writing to me.
Letters arrive daily. Handwritten. Wax sealed. Slightly damp.
They all say the same thing:
“RIP.”
“We remember the crash.”
“Which crash?”
“Yes.”
And at the bottom, in smaller handwriting:
“Is the $9.99 gift basket still available?”


This letter—your letter—has inspired me to begin my journey.
I am renouncing earthly possessions.
I am renouncing employment.
I am walking barefoot into the hills as a jobless monk.


However, I will still be accepting the $9.99 gift basket on the way out.


As a jobless monk, I vow silence, reflection, and reminding passersby about the tragic plane crash, the equally tragic car crash, and the extremely reasonably priced $9.99 gift basket available near the exit doors.


I remember those bunker days too.
Ragebaiting. Waiting. Looking at the ceiling.
Being told “it says gullible on the ceiling.”
Falling for it. Just like we all fell—for the plane crash. And then again—for the car crash.
But never falling to pick up the $9.99 gift basket.


Thank you again for your kindness.
Thank you for your letter.
Thank you for inspiring this monkhood.


And finally, one last reminder to all mourners, citizens of Pinewood, and wandering souls:


Please make sure you claim your $9.99 gift basket on the way out.


🕊️✈️🚗💥🧺
(P.S: #notdead 100% alive #)
 
In the quiet hum of late-night screens,
Where pixels breathe and shadows talk,
There moves a name like a whispered spark—
Trickl, stepping softly where others walk loud.


Trickl bends the rules of expectation,
Not breaking them, just smiling as they shift,
A sleight of thought, a clever turn of phrase,
Proof that subtle hands can still lift worlds.


While crowds rush forward chasing noise,
Trickl waits, watching patterns form,
Finding meaning in the pauses between words,
And power in what is almost unseen.


There’s humor stitched into every silence,
A calm defiance in the way @Trickl stands,
As if chaos itself forgot its purpose
The moment it crossed his path.


Stories cling to him like static light,
Moments half-real, half-legend,
And each time the name Tricklis spoken,
It feels like a secret shared twice.


Not a shout, not a crown of gold,
Just presence—steady, sharp, aware.
Trickldoesn’t chase the spotlight;
The spotlight learns how to follow.


So let the night keep its mysteries,
Let the world spin loud and fast—
Somewhere in the middle of it all
Is Trickl unchanged, unforgettable.
 
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A Message on the Passing of Trickl​


It is with heavy hearts that we mourn the passing of @Trickl . His absence is felt deeply, not just because of what he did, but because of how he made people feel. @Trickl brought warmth, humor, and a sense of belonging that cannot be replaced. He showed up with generosity of spirit, offering his time, his voice, and his presence in ways that quietly strengthened the community around him.


@Trickl mattered. He mattered in the small moments that made people smile, in the conversations that lingered, and in the connections that outlast any single interaction. The space he leaves behind reminds us that communities are shaped by individuals who give without asking, who listen without judgment, and who care without condition.


We grieve his loss together, and we honor him by carrying forward the kindness, curiosity, and openness he shared so freely. He will be remembered, and he will be missed.



Soliloquy for Trickl​


You have stepped beyond the noise now,
beyond the quick replies and familiar echoes,
leaving us to sit with the silence you did not create
but somehow softened.


We speak your name and feel its weight—
not heavy with sorrow alone,
but full of laughter remembered,
of moments once ordinary, now sacred.


You were never just a voice among many.
You were a presence—steady, human, real—
and in your absence we learn how deeply
one person can shape a shared space.


If memory is a kind of afterlife,
then you remain with us still:
in the words we choose more carefully,
in the patience we offer,
in the kindness we pass forward
because you once did.


Rest now, @Trickl.
We will carry what you gave us,
and in doing so,
you will not be gone.
 
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